


The Itch

by tomsass



Series: The Itch [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bad Thoughts, Cutting, Depression, Gen, Sad Dean, Self Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Dean, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-05 06:59:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4170384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomsass/pseuds/tomsass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean can't take the demons anymore... He snaps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Itch

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this because I was feeling sad and sometimes I just like to give my feelings and worries and insecurities to characters that I feel connected with.

"Night, Sammy." Dean said as he grabbed his last beer from the fridge. He stared at his brother who was sitting at the table reading a book to reply but he never did.

/ _Of course_ /

Dean thought and made his way down the hallway and into his room. He flopped himself on his bed and stared up at the ceiling while drinking his beer, letting his thoughts take him away.

You see, Dean and Sam have been fighting for the last couple of weeks. Sam thinks Dean is being a stone cold jerk that doesn't have any emotions while Dean is mad that his brother his wrong but can't tell him so without breaking down.

Dean needed his brother more than ever and he can't even accept the help that he's trying to give him.

/ _No wonder why he hates you_ /

Then there's Cas... His best friend that he or may not have a crush on. He's been beating himself up about these feelings he's been harboring for the past couple years. He knows that he shouldn't feel this way about his friend, so he doesn't act on his feelings. And even if he wasn't beating himself over having gay thoughts about Cas, he still wouldn't say anything, knowing that he wouldn't deserve the love that Cas would give him. So instead he ignores Cas when he sees him or when he visits the two brothers. He knows he's hurting him, but he doesn't want Cas to waste his time on him anymore. He isn't worth it.

 _/He probably hates you now anyway_ /

Dean finished his beer and tossed it to the trash can, missing completely. He sighed and reluctantly got up with a groan to pick up the broken glasses from the floor.

Of course, he blames it on the trash.

"Fuck!" Dean hissed in pain as a glass piece cut his palm. "Fuck fuck fuck" he chanted while trying to stand up. He went to the bathroom and rinsed his hands as he picked out any glass pieces in his hand.He sighed and looked to the mirror when he finished. _God I'm a fuck up. Can't even pick up after my damn self._

He examined his face, noticing the bags under his eyes and his sunken face. He knew he wasn't eating right, Hell, he never ate right, but the difference now is that he's not eating anything besides alcohol. He'd have a piece of food every now and then just so Sam wouldn't bitch about it.

/ _Like he'd actually care_ /

Dean snorted. Of course he wouldn't care. Who would care about me? He felt his eyes well up in tears. He let them slide down his face, not bothering to wipe them away.

/ _Look at you, look how pathetic you look_ /

/ _You're right, no one cares about you_ /

/ _your mom left you, your dad left you, even bobby left!_ /

/ _Even when people start to care you just ouch them away_ /

/ _that's all you're good at_ /

/ _all you do is mope and drink_ /

"STOP!" He yelled in frustration, slamming his fists against the sink. He's not going to let him self slip again. He won't.

/ _Cmon Dean, just one little cut._ /

/ _just like old times_ /

His breathing picked up along with his heart, pulsing his blood at a fast rate. All he could hear was the blood rushing through his head and his demons in his head. "No, you're better than this"

/ _no you're not, look at you_ /

/ _you're already looking for something to cut with_ /

They were right. He snapped and started to frantically find something to cut with.

"Where is it where is it" was going through his mind like a mantra until finally, he found a new razor. "No, I can't. It's been too long... I've been so good"

/ _good? Look at you! You're already half dead._ /

/ _Just do it_ /

/ _It'll make the itch go away_ /

/ _you know you want to_ /

And he did want to... So he did. He cut. And cut. And cut.

Where, you ask? The same place he'd done when he was 15. Upper thighs. No one would see it. Only him and his demons in his head would. It would be their secret. The voices went away after he finished. Exhausted, he pulled his pants off but kept his boxers on and staggered to his bed and getting under the covers. Knowing well enough that the blood from his injuries would seek through. But why would he care? The itch is gone and he can finally get some sleep, knowing he let his inner demons win.


End file.
